


Six Million Years is a Long Time, Amirite?

by Adanska



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: More than Meets the Eye
Genre: Gen, Humanformers, I enjoy making characters miserable, Ladyformers, Possible backstory, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adanska/pseuds/Adanska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She grabbed up a fourth glass. “To the great Cybertronian empire!”</p>
<p>“To Cybertron!” the whole bar chorused back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Million Years is a Long Time, Amirite?

“Tailgate!” Sitting upright at the small hightop-table, Tailgate looked towards her friend, unable to hide the wide grin on her face as Muffler threw herself into one of the open seats. “So it _is_ true! You got a job on the _Ark_!”

“It’s only a sluicer position,” Tailgate demurred, still beaming like a loon. Muffler nicked one of the spare glasses of Energon, tossing it back in two easy pulls and snitching another while Tailgate nursed her first.

“This can fucking _make_ your career!” Muffler exclaimed, matching Tailgate tooth for tooth. “No more sewage tanks for you, my girl, mark it.”

“I would hope so!” She and Muffler laughed, hers high like a bird, Muffler’s like an avalanche. Tailgate immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, slouching low in her chair; no one even looked their way.

“Aw, lay off it, ‘Gate, us Disposables can take some fucking joy outta the world,” Muffler said, drawling and loud, slamming back another Energon shot, Tailgate’s hand around her wrist doing nothing to deter her.

“Muffler,” she said, tugging at Muffler’s wrist, previous joy sitting like lead in her stomach. “ _Please_.”

Muffler stared her down for a long moment; when she capitulated, Tailgate drooped with relief.

“Eh, whatever.” She grabbed up a fourth glass. “To the great Cybertronian empire!”

“ _To Cybertron!_ ” the whole bar chorused back, Disposables and Elite alike. Tailgate laughed, joyous again even with so many Elites staring them down across the sections; in the shadows, she swore she could see Cyclonus, and Scourge, and, shuddering, put them out of her mind.

It wasn’t good to be noticed.

  
  
“I wish I knew what happened to my friends,” Tailgate said, sighing into her drink. “You know, the ones not on the Ark,” she clarified quickly, darting a look up at Swerve’s face. “I know what happened to them.” _Mostly. I know what Cyclonus screams in her sleep._

“Maybe you could ask Rewind?” Swerve suggested, squinting at a stubborn glass. “She’s got, like, a million primary sources on her at all times, I’m sure she’s got to have _something_.”

Tailgate perked up. “Really?” she asked, brown fingers locking tight onto the bar’s edge. “Do you think she’d help me?”

Swerve shrugged. “Can’t see why not. You’re a cute little thing; everyone would fall over themselves to help you. Except for Cyclonus. I seriously do not see what you see in that woman.”

“She’s nice,” Tailgate defended, taking one last sip of her drink and sliding off her stool. “Really. To me, at least.”

Swerve eyed her, squinting. “Didn’t she kick the shit out of you that one time?”

“I hit her first,” she said absently, pushing her stool back in as she dug out her fancy communicator they’d cobbled together for her, asking for Rewind’s current location. “Besides: she threw me out of the way of a bomb.” _And consistently lies and loses face for me_. “We’re four-bye.”

“Four-bye,” Swerve muttered as she wandered away, chuckling to herself at the bar. “ _That’s_ what I meant by precious; who even says stuff like that?”

Tailgate hurried through the hall, her white boots clipping musically on the tile as she trotted along, greeting and waving to people as she passed. She felt a familiar warmth rise up, knowing that so many people knew her face, knew her _name_ ; she wanted to feel a little guilty at that, but she spent six million years being forgotten. She deserved a little vanity.

Rounding a corner, she spotted the archivist chatting with Skids. “Rewind,” she called out, an arm above her head. Skidding to an awkward stop, she braced her hands on her knees, panting for breath. “Um, I was wondering, um...”

Skids laughed, cutting her fumbling attempt at a request mercifully short. “I’ll just catch up with you later, Rewind,” she said, dropping a heavy hand on Tailgate’s shoulder with a smirk. “Take a deep breath,” she advised seriously, winking; adjusting her headscarf, she glided away.

“She’s an elegant one, alright,” Rewind teased, throwing an arm over Tailgate’s shoulders, watching as Skids suddenly threw Trailcutter into a headlock, wrestling him to the ground. “So, what’d you wanna see me for?”

“Um.” Biting her lip, she jabbed two thumbs towards the hab suites to the left of them. “Do you mind if...?”

“Oh! Of course!” Looping their arms together, Rewind dragged her down the hall, her sandals slapping madly against the ground (Tailgate was a bit impressed; she would’ve either fallen or walked out of shoes like that at this speed). Reaching hers and Chromedome’s room, Rewind swerved inside, pushing Tailgate towards the plush chair in the corner as she keyed the door shut.

Hopping up onto the bed, Rewind eyed her over her blue glasses. “So, what did you want to know?”

Tailgate took a bracing breath. “This can’t leave this room, okay?” she said, hands clenched so tight she could feel them creaking. “I mean it. This cannot absolutely leave this room, you can’t tell Chromedome either, okay?”

“Hey.” Rewind placed a hand over her own, pale fingers pulling hers apart patiently. “It’s okay. I get it. I can keep secrets, you know,” she said, winking. “It’s almost in the job description. I archive; it doesn’t mean I _share_.”

Tailgate nodded, swallowing hard. “I want--I want to find out what happened to my friends.”

Rewind blinked. “Well, the Ark-1--”

Tailgate shook her head. “No, I want to know what happened to my _friends_. Sluicer sixth-class Redback. Sluicer fourth-class Stallout. Mechanic fourth-class Spare. Mechanic--Mechanic fifth-class Muffler.”

Rewind was silent for a long moment; finally, she squeezed Tailgate’s hand. “No wonder you said you wanted to be a Decepticon,” she said softly, no judgement in her tone. Tailgate could’ve cried. “Let’s see,” she said softly to herself, her hand going lax over Tailgate’s; looking up, Tailgate saw that her gaze was far away, her lenses flickering with data. “Medical record dated four-oh-six-eighty-two of the old calendar lists ToD Redback, sluicer second-class, CoD drowning, caused by mechanical failure. There’s an operations report filed regarding Stallout, sluicer sixth-class, regarding a gross misconduct on the eighteenth cord of the fifty-second cycle, twenty-one, and only one sighting after that during an early skirmish with Decepticon sympathisers. Hmmm.” She twitched the fingers of her spare hand, flicking through the data. “A touching obit for Spare, written by her _niece_ in third chord of the second cycle, four-fifty-three; seems she died in a hit-and-run, no suspicious marks in her coroner’s report. Muffler, Muffler, Muffler, where are you. Ah, there we are. Muffler, mechanic fifth-class.” She paused, focusing finally on Tailgate. "Filed four-hundred and eighty-seven missing person reports, and three hundred and twenty-three suspicious activity reports against various members of the ‘intellectual’ class. Was arrested and brought up on charges herself twenty-four hundred and eighteen times. Underwent Empurata in four-thirty-seven. Last record match seventeenth cycle, six-fifteen, suspected dead on Chronia, suspected member of the Decepticon faction, never proved.”

“I told her, it’s not good to get noticed,” Tailgate said finally, her mouth numb. She pulled a hand from Rewind’s grip, put it over her eyes; it was shaking. “I _told her_.”

“I’m sure she thought you were worth making a fuss over,” Rewind said, so gentle and understanding.

Tailgate got to her feet. “Thank you for letting me know,” she said stiffly, dipping a bow, her hands trembling on her thighs. “And thank you for not--”

“--Telling anyone?” Rewind finished, a brow cocked. She flapped a hand. “Think nothing of it, although I now hope like hell you did some reading up on bombs before Temptoria.”

Tailgate smiled. It felt oddly stretched. “Of course,” she lied easily. “I just remembered, I need to meet Cyclonus before dinner; Drift was looking for her, and I don’t want her to get on trouble on my account.”

“Of course you don’t,” Rewind accepted. Before Tailgate could leave, she grabbed her by the wrist lightly. “And if you ever need to talk, my ear’s always open for another ‘disposable’.”

“Thank you,” Tailgate said. “I’ll remember that.” Rewind held her for a moment longer, and let her go.

The trip back to hers and Cyclonus’ room was a blur. One moment, she could still feel the cool press of Rewind’s slender fingers; the next, she was sitting on the floor of her hab suite, back to the door with her fingers in her mouth, sobbing. It was one thing to know, intellectually, that everyone she knew was dead, and that no one cared enough to look; it was completely different to know how your closest friends died, or went missing, and knowing that caring for you was what got them in trouble.

When the door opened behind her, she only avoided spilling out into the hall because she collapsed against Cyclonus’ legs, first. “Oh!” she exclaimed, her fingers still hooked over her teeth. “Cyclonus! I didn’t. I mean.”

Pushing her further inside, Cyclonus locked the door before folding herself up on the floor behind her. “I grieve with you,” she said, solemn and grave; the brittle mask Tailgate had managed to cobble together crumbled, and she buried herself in Cyclonus’ arms, sobbing brokenly into her shoulder, her body shaking under Cyclonus’ steady hands as she mourned those who were lost.


End file.
